Owlinian Genocide
by FindaHappyPlace
Summary: A figure from Shayera's past back on Thanagar comes reeling back into her life during her mission on Earth. She has to come to grips with what she is missing and what she has left, all the while helping her friend over come her own tragedies. HG/GL, BM/WW


Hey guys! This is a reattempt at a my first Justice League fanfic that I wrote a long while back. Enjoy. I hope it's a little better now. It takes place shortly after "Wild Cards" but contains spoilers from "Starcrossed"

I do not own Justice League. It is owned by DC Comics.

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Chapter One- Acceptance

I've come to accept a lot of things these past few years. That I'll die in here. That no one will come to save me. That no one wants to save me. That my life is slowly ticking by in these same four walls. That they want me to die in here.

They've "forgotten" to feed me again today. I've lost so much weight that I can now count almost all of my bones. My once olive skin is the pasty white of the cold floor. My hair, once short and a shiny ebony, is faded and lusterless dead black. It falls back behind me in limp chunks. I haven't been allowed to wash it in 68 days, 7 hours, 23 minutes, and 34, 35, 36 seconds. They put the clock in here for a reason. It adds to my insanity.

I curl under the window wrapping my knees up to my chin. My hair falls like broken burned hay around me. My once long and snow white wings, they bound those up when they put me in here and my feathers are falling out in handfuls. I think if they were to set me free, by now I would have forgotten how to fly. They left some water on in the room next to me. It drips a steady drip. Oh, how it DRIPS! I can't stand it! I can stand these same four walls that inch in closer, or my bound wings, or my bony ribs, my long hair that gets matted in my bindings.

I pull my self up with what strength I have and crawl to my pile of blankets in the darkest corner. I pull out a knife I had manage to steal months ago, I'm finally willing to use it. I pick up the long blade and as it hit's the light I catch the first glimpse of my face in almost a year. I almost didn't realize that it was mine. My eyes, their shocking violet was all I had left of my own. I grabbed my hair in single handful and held the back of the knife to my neck. In one fluid moment, my hair laid in a pile on the floor. I leaned back against the wall, getting a little bit of comfort of the lack of weight and heat on my neck, reveling in the one ounce of sanity I had left.

I jumped at the sudden sound of a tumbling lock at my door. I quickly stuff my blade back into its hiding place and tried to look much more alive than I felt, thinking it might disappoint them. I almost cried aloud at who walked into my small cell. I speak for the first time in months.

"Hro.." I was shocked that my voice still worked. He smiled the same cocky smile that I knew made him such a good leader. It took him two steps to cross the room and pick my up off the floor. His nose automatically wrinkled as he caught scent of me. I smelled as dead as I felt. He still kept his smile and nodded at me.

"Aslina, my dear, I have good news!" he said cheerfully. That you are finally going to kill me? That I have a terminal illness? That suddenly the world has come to their senses and they realize I have done nothing wrong? I say nothing, my face stays frozen and blank. I let him talk.

"We have track those that killed our Shayera," he said, still smiling. My heart almost stops. I can't believe it. I've heard no news of her, sense they locked me up. I begin to shake. I want to go, seek my revenge. I speak before I can realize the absurdity of it.

"Take me with you," I told him in my scratchy voice. Now, I'm the one whose gripping him with my fragile long emaciated fingers. He laughs.

"My dear, I would not have it any other way."

----

Shayera was sitting on the windowsill staring out that the universe from a large window in the watch tower. Her mind was miles away from where she was at that moment. She hugged her knees close. Feeling her homesickness drill into her abdomen like a knife.

"It ails you too?" a smooth voice asked that stirred her from her far away thoughts. J'onn stood not far from her, his eyes were staring in the direction of the dead red planet. She gave him a questioning look.

"Homesickness, I have been feeling in much these past week or so, too, everyone so deep into the holiday of Thanks." He walked up and sat next to her. She moved to place her feet back on the floor to accommodate J'onn better.

"Yeah, I'm homesick alright." she said weakly.

"What do you miss?" he spoke suddenly. It was rare for J'onn to pry, and it startled her.

"What? Oh, random things. Plume nectar. Alon's Kidneys. My job. My friend that I lived with for a while." she told him absently, her mind was still off in her own thought.

"Tell me about her." he said. She was silent for a moment, as if trying to find her word when she turned to him eyebrows furrowed.

"How did you know it was a girl?" she asked.

"Intuition." she nodded.

"Well, um her name was Aslina. She was a young, free spirited girl. Nothing could keep her to one thing for long. She was happy, energetic, and impulsive."

"Sounds like someone else I know," J'onn interjected.

"Yeah, I can see why. She was a very unfortunate girl, though. Remember World War II and the persecution of the Jews? Yeah, we were or still are, I'm not sure, experiencing something similar to that. She was an Owlinian. A being in a beautiful, but misunderstood race. They were intelligent, pacifistic and outnumbered in a race that favored technology and war. There was no room for them. It calmed down for a while, and then I wound up here. She could be dead for all I know." Silence rained down in the room for a moment until J'onn finally spoke.

"No, I believe she is still quite alive."

"Yes, I do hope so."

---

I still could not believe it. Even after they released my wings, fed me actual food, and threw me in the hot pressurized jets that I was going to do something I had been dreaming about for years. I was getting my revenge. When Shayera was taken away from me by those thieves, I thought I was going to die from the torment of it. I still don't know how I managed not to. Hro came to me in my cell again. I was clean, and a little healthier than I was a couple days before. I felt I might cry from joy by just what he held in his hand.

It was my staff. It was still as beautiful as the day they pried it from my fingers four years and 12 days ago. Four years and nine days since Shayera was killed. The black metal was still as sleek, and the long curved blade was still as sharp. I was almost afraid to reach for it when he handed it to me, for fear that he might snatch it back and laugh at me. Playing all the games the other soldiers had to make me feel like I was some abused animal that deserved it. I felt more complete when it was placed in my hands. He once again picked me up off the floor and lead me out of my small dank cell with his arm around my shoulder. He lead me from there for the last time. The soldiers wore smug expressions but I was too caught up in my moment to realize that they held the same look on their faces as when they decided to play keep away with my water.


End file.
